


Teachers Deserve Higher Pay

by parrotfish_elliot



Series: Teachers Deserve Higher Pay [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Art Teacher Jack, Biology Teacher Davey, High School Teachers, Multi, Teacher AU, Theyre gay, and bad at their jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrotfish_elliot/pseuds/parrotfish_elliot
Summary: Davey Jacobs hates interviews, but he has to admit that sometimes the outcome of said interviews are more than worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

After three long years, Davey should have learned that more Biology pop quizzes meant more time spent grading, and while he has no actual “social life” to be missing out on, it’s still a pain in the ass. Of course, the suffering is self-inflicted and his early onsetting carpal tunnel from writing “F” on too many papers is kind of worth seeing the children’s faces when they realize they have no idea what the differences between an organ, and organelle, and an organ system are, no matter how much he tries to drill it into their grimy little heads.

He sat surrounded by bad papers and disappointment. Oh, the life of a biologist who was unfortunate enough to become an educator.

His attention span was almost non-existent by the time he was halfway through, so it was only natural that he had abandoned his grading and was checking his email. That only proved to make his attention span disappear entirely. He had an unopened email from two hours ago informing him of an art teacher interview scheduled for five minutes from then. Grading no longer mattered, half his students can suffer in anticipation while he half-asses his way through the other, admittedly at least infinitesimally more enjoyable, part of his job.

Grading pushed aside for the time being, he quickly stood up, fixed his tie and hair, and grabbed his phone before walking to the head of school, Pulitzer’s, office. Having five minutes to prepare to interview a guy for a job position that had been open for three months wasn’t his favorite thing.

Interviews are infamous for being absolute hell. Ugly candidates with minimal experience in their field, no experience with children, and terrible chemistry with the rest of the team. He hadn’t had enough coffee to deal with this.

All the candidates were in a separate room so they couldn’t sway Davey’s vote beforehand. He reluctantly walked into the interview room, wishing he was dead. He sat at the round table near Mr. Pulitzer and pulled out his phone to bitterly text his sister. He didn’t sign up for this, he’s a biologist, not an extrovert, for God’s sake.

Applicant after applicant came in, all with fake smiles and overdone outfits. A few even brought a couple sketches to prove they were good, but they were all mirror images of the others.

That might be why Davey wasn’t at all ready for a “Mr. Jack Kelly” to come swaggering in. He had an easy smile that could probably stop any war, if the leaders of the opposing sides were into that, a partially unbuttoned blue shirt kind of covering what seemed to be a Superman tee, and three sketchbooks. Davey was more intrigued than he had been in a long time. His handshake was firm and confident, matching his general look perfectly.

The interview was a lot more exciting than the others before it had been. Mr. Jack Kelly spent about three minutes just flipping through his sketchbook, pointing at things, fidgeting with a pen, and occasionally describing the images or casually referencing memes. The last five minutes trying his best to answer questions. 

“Why are you interested in art specifically?”  
“I like teenagers and I have some strong feelings about fine arts programs in schools.”

“Do you have any children that you interact with regularly?”  
“I have an old dog, if that counts? If not, I have a slightly younger dog that should count.”

“Do you have any prior teaching experience?”  
“I once taught an elderly couple how to draw a tree, I suppose, and I guess the tree turned out pretty good.”

“Why do you want this job?”  
“I got bored of working at Sam’s Club, it’s too bougie for me.”

These answers weren’t typical and were a textbook way to flunk an interview. When he left, Davey put a star of approval next to his name rather than just crossing it out.

The rest of the interviews paled in comparison to Mr. Jack Kelly’s, unsurprisingly. One woman did manage to spend the entire allotted time talking about her six cats, though, which was definitely interesting.

Pulitzer and Davey were tasked with comparing notes afterwards. The problem was, Pulitzer was wrong and doesn’t understand children and had jotted down some terrible people for the job. None of them were Mr. Jack Kelly.

Davey took it upon himself to sway Pulitzer’s opinion. The kids would revolt if their art teacher was anything less than perfect in the eyes of high schools. That type tends to be messy, humorous, talented, relatable, and stylish. Mr. Jack Kelly checked all those boxes.

“So what did you think of the candidates, David?” Pulitzer asked, snapping him out of his reverie. Davey shrugged.

“I dunno, Joseph, most of them were pretty bad. I liked that Kelly one, though, I think he’d work well with not only the educators team but also the student body, you know?” He acted nonchalant as not to give away how disappointed he would be if anyone else were to be hired. Pulitzer nodded in consideration. 

“Maybe, but he seemed disorganized and messy,” Pulitzer disagreed, still unconvinced.

“Not to be argumentative, sir-” Davey desperately hoped his ridiculous reasonings would work, “-but I believe he just seemed at ease and confident, like a cat or something.”

The conversation went on like that for a while. A back and forth argument going over pros and cons of every single candidate, ranging from age to actual experience. At one point, they discussed in depth the pros and cons of not hiring an art teacher and just getting rid of the art teacher all together, which was ultimately agreed to be a horrible plan that should have never even been brought up. Davey kept firmly to his opinion on their hire despite every valid point raised.

His resilience paid off, much to his surprise. The conversation ended with Pulitzer’s assistant typing up an email to one Mr. Jack Kelly informing him of his newfound employment in the halls of their high school.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jack starts his new job

When Jack came in the next afternoon for his quick briefing on the rules and codes of conduct, Davey stayed out of his way. The head teacher isn’t needed to show newbies to their rooms and tell them what to do. That’s Pulitzer’s job. So, as a result, Davey ended up grading papers instead of talking to him until their work day ended. That scenario works better for his sanity, anyways.

The first actual conversation Davey can recall having with Jack after the hire occurred when Jack was moving his stuff into the classroom the morning after that and spilled green paint all over himself and his room. He was sat in this puddle of acrylic when Davey conveniently walked by his classroom and glanced through the windows to see how he was adjusting.

For the record, Jack would have said he’s adjusting quite nicely. 

Davey had to take a double take. He wasn’t expecting what he saw. When his brain processed it, he cautiously opened Jack’s door to figure out what was happening.

Jack glanced up as soon as Davey came in, grinning like an idiot. “Jack, you’ve been here for one day! How did you already make a mess?” Davey sighed, sitting on a table to watch Jack drown in his own mess.

“Are you sayin’ you ain’t never spilled any of your stuff, Mr. I Have A Biology Degree?” he teased, eyes alight. Davey was beginning to notice that Jack was big on being charming. He was also noticing that Jack had a tendency to smile with his whole face and fiddled with his hands while he spoke. He didn’t know why he was noticing these things, but he blamed his STEM knowledge. That’s also what he blamed when he filed this information away for later investigation and observation.

Davey shook his head in response to Jack’s question. “The only times I’ve needed to carry heavy things, I’ve had Higgins or Meyers on standby to help me. Neither one of them look that strong, I know, but at least they’re a bit stronger than me.” He laughed quietly. “Are you just going to sit in your paint all day?”

“That was the plan, yeah.” Jack shrugged, running a hand through the puddle of paint as if that were a normal thing to do. Davey got the odd feeling that situations like this would become commonplace what with Jack now working in the building.

Davey rolled his eyes. “Actually, I don’t think I can let you do that. I hate to pull rank, except no I don’t, but you gotta actually get your classroom ready. Your job starts tomorrow, dude.” He swung his legs slightly from his perch on the table. Jack sighed and begrudgingly stood up.

He was dripping in paint but he wasn’t too concerned about that. Davey raised a brow. “This is a terrible first impression to make on the students, you know that? I could get the janitorial staff to come clean it up for you if you wanted-”

“No, thanks,” Jack interrupted, shaking his head. “I can handle this, there’s ain’t no need to make their lives tougher. I’ll get it cleaned up by the time the kids get here- this was a foreseen issue.” Davey had to stop himself from grimacing at Jack’s grammar because that might have been considered impolite. 

Instead, Davey continued swinging his legs and smiled slightly. “That’s awfully noble of you, I guess. So if you really don’t need help, I needed to talk to Higgins about the lab-”

 

“Yeah, I got it. Promise. See ya’ later, Dave,” he interrupted again. Davey bit back a frown, deciding to address that issue later. As it was, he broadened his smile a little bit before hopping off the table and walking back out of the classroom, wondering what to make of his first solo encounter with Jack Kelly.

He did eventually reach Higgins’ Chemistry Bonanza, as Anthony insists on calling it, and he had to force his thoughts to the back of his mind in favor of bargaining for possession of his own goddamn lab.

He came out five minutes later with a headache, a bottle of Viagra, and still no lab. Typical.

 

Davey frequently took time out of his day to check on Jack, sure he would showcase some fault while teaching, but every time he glanced across the hall into the art room, the kids were all working and Jack was helping someone. It fascinated Davey from a psychologist minor’s standpoint to see how different he acted around the students verses his coworkers. This was a common trait shared across the board with many of his fellow teachers. Spot’s always angry outside of school but he has a soft spot for his lacrosse boys. Katherine acts snobby around the men but acts like a cool intellectual in her English class. Even Specs bleeds sarcasm but speaks normally around his dancers.

That was Davey’s favorite thing about being a teacher. He gets to know two sides of each of his friends, the casual side and the professional side. He usually prefers the casual side, because that’s the side that they feel comfortable showing around their peers. Quite a few of them had to consciously change their demeanor around the students and Davey didn’t like that at all. 

At the end of the day, Davey let himself watch the calamity and togetherness of his school persona wash off of Jack until he turned into his usual fidgety self. That fit him much better, Davey decided.

He walked across the hall to converse with Jack again. He saw it as his duty as head teacher to check on his underlings, so it was only right that he’d check on Jack.

Jack was sitting on the floor again, this time with what seemed to be a fidget cube bouncing around in his hands instead of a box of paints and a carpet under his legs instead of green acrylics. He was messing with the buttons when Davey came in.

“Hey, Dave! Came by to see if I was still alive?” he joked, grinning. Davey shrugged.

“That’s not my biggest concern, I’m here to see if the kids are still alive.” He sat down on the table nearest to Jack, smiling back. About two seconds later, though, he got bored of sitting and walked over to Jack’s whiteboard to straighten and reorganize the Expo markers.

Jack watched him curiously. “I can say with confidence that ain’t none of those kids have been killed yet, and I’m pretty confident that they is takin’ a likin’ to me already.” He sat down his cube and ran his fingers over the carpet instead.

They continued talking about their respective school days and classes for a while. Crutchie walked in at one point, eager to meet the new guy, followed by the bickering pair of Spot and Race. Soon enough, the art classroom was crowded with the teachers and Jack was beaming. Kath was telling him about the paper she supervises, Romeo was waxing poetic about Specs, who was absent on account of he has dancers to teach, and Albert, who was angrily arguing in some mix between English and Italian with Race. Davey looked around, taking in the sight of his friends laughing and chatting with the newest addition to their group.

Yeah, he thought. Jack’s gonna fit right in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some things go down

Over the course of the next week, Davey and Jack quickly became close friends. This may have been because they were across the hall neighbors or it may have been because their personalities clashed in such a way that they fit. As such, Davey began spending more time after school in Jack’s classroom and vice versa. Jack would grade sketchbooks while Davey graded tests, and then they’d both take a break to quell the flighty nerves coursing through each of their bodies.

This routine became a welcome habit after only three days. Davey would walk in and make a comment on Jack’s shirt of the day before sitting on a table. Alternatively, Jack would walk in and give a heads up before tossing an extra fidget toy at Davey so he could focus while he graded. The routine fit them.

They didn’t just interact after school, though.

Davey would glance across the hall from time to time while his kids were working, and Jack would wink back at him. Jack would wander over with a begging look on his face asking to borrow an anatomy book or something equally as random. Davey never saw him use the books for his class, but he didn’t question it.

After four days, Jack revealed he was spending nights at the community college to earn an actual art degree. That same day, Davey revealed he was spending nights awake, cleaning his entire house over and over to avoid sleeping.

By day five, it was clear to everyone that they were inseparable. Even the students were already noticing that the art teacher and the bio teacher were clearly close. Not as close as Spot and Race, or Romeo and Specs, or Mush and Louis, but still. 

This didn’t mean Davey was the only one Jack grew close to. Katherine came by in the mornings and sat with him to beg him to recruit artists for the newspaper. Every morning, the exact same speech. 

“Morning, Kelly! Did you think about what I said yesterday? The newspaper could really use some good handdrawn images for that authentic feel!”

“I’m not givin my prodigies to ya, Kathie, nice try. How’s your class doin’?”

Then they launch into a conversation. That routine started on day three. It fit them like the afternoon routine fit with Davey. 

Davey knew the afternoons were different, though. Or, at least, he liked to think he knew. Jack didn’t share his fidgets with Katherine, he didn’t lean his head on Katherine’s legs while skimming through sketchbooks, he didn’t tell her stories of how his dog did something totally undoglike, hoping for a biological or psychological answer as to why his dog is like that.

Davey couldn’t place his finger on why these things were important to him. He couldn’t place his finger on why he didn’t like the idea of Jack doing them with anyone else. He didn’t dwell on it.

On Jack’s first Friday, a Friday Night Dinner was scheduled and planned by Racetrack. Well, actually, scheduled and planned might be a bit misleading. He simply sent a single email to the entire team and expected them to show up.

_‘DQ tonight @ 6 be there and bring money cuz i aint paying also dont tell pulitz hes not invited’ _followed by an ungodly stream of emojis.__

__Naturally, it was the most convincing and detailed email Davey had ever read, so he decided to go. Alas, the projects he had made his students complete would have to go ungraded for another two hours. Possibly more, if Race got what he inevitably wanted and they went to a bar. Of course, with both Davey and Katherine (he texted her to make sure she’d show up) going, it was unlikely. Two straightedges don’t bode well with a short Italian chemist begging to go to a bar._ _

__Jack was also going. Obviously._ _

__Everyone except Spot showed up that night. The only reason Spot wasn’t there was because the start of the lacrosse season meant Friday nights are for games or for training. No more late night Dairy Queen trips with the token lactose intolerant for at least a couple months._ _

__They had to push three tables together, but somehow they all fit. All the pairs sat together, logically, and Jack sat comfortably between Kath and Davey. They both kept stealing his fries, so he was kind of regretting his decision._ _

__As the group got to talking, the realization was slowly reached that no one had come out to Jack yet._ _

__“We forgot to fuckin do the thing with Jack!”_ _

__“What thing, Higgins?”_ _

__“Y’know, the _thing _! Charlie, you’re smarter than this, come on.”___ _

____“Oh! Right!”_ _ _ _

____Everyone else caught on at the same time as Crutchie and started laughing. Jack sat confused. Davey smiled at him from hi position on his left. “If I’m not mistaken, Race is referring to saying our sexualites. It’s funny because that’s usually how we introduce ourselves. So, I guess I’m David and I am a known homosexual.”_ _ _ _

____“Anthony, bi. Spot’s sexuality is tiny bi, it’s my responsibility to say that when he’s absent. Please don’t tell him I called him tiny.” He punctuated his sentence with a grin._ _ _ _

____“Albert, I’m ace and aro. I’m the true triple A.” This was followed by a groan._ _ _ _

____“You know me, I’m Kath, I like females and also girls and on occasion women.”_ _ _ _

____It went on like this until Jack was the only one left and it was clear that none of them were heterosexual. Jack was beaming. “This really is the best school to work at, ain’t it? Jack Kelly, bi as fuck.”_ _ _ _

____As if it were possible, things flowed smoother now that there wasn’t the unsettling air of ‘oh god what if he’s a heterosexual’ throwing off everyone’s vibes. Davey allowed himself to actually look at Jack now that he knows the Straight Frat Boy thing he had going for him was just poor fashion taste rather than actual straightness._ _ _ _

____When everyone finished with their shakes and Blizzards, Race stood on a chair and called for a vote for going to the bar. Davey and Kath both pulled rank- head teacher, principal's daughter- in a scenario where pulling rank should be forbidden, so Race was forced to suffer through sobriety._ _ _ _

____Davey walked over to Jack as they were walking out._ _ _ _

____“So how’d you like your first week with those dumbasses?” he teased lightheartedly, genuinely curious._ _ _ _

____“I loved it, honest. You seem like the, uh, powerhouse of the team, you know that? Like, you make things run smooth. That’s cool to watch,” he mused, smiling at Davey._ _ _ _

____Davey nodded seriously. “Oh yeah, that’s me. The lovely mitochondria of the high school.”_ _ _ _

____“I dunno about no mitochondria, but you sure is lovely.”_ _ _ _

____Davey’s cheeks were a light red as they kept making idle conversation until they reached their respective cars._ _ _ _

____Davey counted that week as a win on many levels._ _ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which davey is a mess

Davey spent the weekend thinking in the quiet calamity of his apartment with his cat on his lap and coffee in his mug. He debated calling his sister for help multiple times but ultimately decided that a kindergarten teacher isn’t his best bet. He didn’t feel like being talked to in that condescending elementary school teacher voice.

Instead of trying to work his problems out like a smart psychology minor, he ranted to his cat. 

“Why did I decide to hire Jack? He’s cute! And sweet! And charming! I’m not supposed to hire cute, sweet, charming men! Those are the kind of men who could throw me off a building and I’d thank them!” He was in quite the state of distress.

His cat meowed in understanding, looking apathetic. 

“Yeah, exactly! He lets me sit on his tables without questioning it! He lets me organize his Expo markers because he always has them random and frequently uncapped! I’m the only person he shares his many, many fidget toys with because I guess he can tell that I need them without asking?! I’m far too old to be whining about a man, though, aren’t I?”

“Mrow.”

“Oh, shut up, Sherbert. That was a rhetoric and you know it.”

This kind of one sided conversation went on for almost an hour before he got bored and decided to look in the school rule book (that he already knew by heart).

He got bored of that quickly and decided to do normal biologist things. Normal biologist things happen to be coloring in a children’s anatomy coloring book. 

Oh, how he despises weekends. Nothing to do, nothing to see, no social life outside of school to speak of. He knew from a logical standpoint that he was being ridiculous, that he should go out and do something, that talking to Sarah wouldn’t actually be that bad, but from a human standpoint, he was fucking tired.

It took a solid three hours for him to realize he never finished grading his AP classes’ projects, so he eventually settled on doing that.

The next Monday, Davey was more relieved than ever that the weekend was over. He had graded everything, and then some.

He walked into Race’s classroom (Higgins’ Chemistry Bonanza) first thing that morning and collapsed on his couch, ignoring the fact that Race was very clearly trying to read a book. 

“Hey, deadweight. Drink too much this weekend?” Race mocked, fixing his reading glasses carelessly and somehow knocking them off his face. “Jesus fuck!”

“I don’t drink, Anthony, shut up. My problem is much more important.”

“Ah, right. Still can’t sleep?” Race set down his book, interest peaked. He doesn’t care about normal issues, but if his friends are upset it’s priority A.

Davey shrugged, still facedown on the couch. “Yeah, I mean, I got two hours of sleep on Saturday night and thirty minutes last night, so, y’know, I’m doing good. But uh, this is a slightly gayer problem than that.” 

Race was even more intrigued now. “Does it happen to be related to our newest recruit?” He knew the answer- he always knew the answer to questions like that.

“Fuck you, Higgins. Of course it is. Are you reading that book on romance because of Conlon?” Davey scowled, rolling over onto his back to stare at Race’s ceiling. Race shrugged noncommittally.

“So what if I am? He’s mine, I can do what I want. Jack’s not yours, Davey, you ought notta lose sleep over him. The chemicals in your brain’ll get all fucked up, worse than actual drugs,” Race grabbed his reading glasses and put them back on before reopening his book. “Look, don’t touch. You know you can’t fall for another one of them.”

Davey sighed. “You’re so unhelpful, Higgins. But, uh, you can be wrong of your opinion. Whatever. I gotta go now, enjoy trying to woo Spot or whatever.” He stood up and trudged out of the room miserably, ignoring Race’s shout of “you’ve only known him for a week” from behind him. That conversation just made him more confused. He wasn’t falling for Jack- he doesn’t “fall” for people. 

He hadn’t fallen for anyone since he was twenty, he’s not planning on relapsing now. He calls himself a straightedge- that means not only drugs and alcohol but also attraction. People don’t like him. He’s messed up and he can’t live with other people and no one has the patience for him.

Add in his dedication to his work into that, he can’t allow himself to even develop a crush. 

He took a deep breath. 

He took a long swig of coffee.

He walked into his own classroom. He wrote the date and assignment on the board for his first section class and went to sit on his desk. He looked at the clock. Ten minutes until school starts. He looked out his window. Jack was sitting with a student who didn’t finish the first project Jack had ever assigned. Davey cussed under his breath and diverted his attention to his Big Binder of Lesson Plans for his PAP kids. Unit Seven. Endangered species.

Endangered Species Example A: Davey’s sanity. So rare it hasn’t been seen in twelve years by anyone but a cat. Categorized alphabetically right after Davey’s heterosexuality and Davey’s patience. 

He took another deep breath.

This is fine. 

Students started filing in so Davey straightened himself out and hopped off the desk to properly prepare himself for his job. He took another drink of his coffee and allowed himself a few more deep breaths before he greeted his students.

He got through the day with minimal incidents. Every time he glanced over into Jack’s classroom, Jack winked at him. That caused a bit of stuttering and stumbling in the middle of his lesson, but he managed. He almost dropped his laptop once, but it was fine.

After school, Jack appeared at his door with his button down undone and revealing an old Batman shirt and hair messed up from far too much running his hands through it during the day. There was green paint on his face. Davey smiled at that. He could handle this. He’s gotten this far in life without fucking up, he could probably handle anything.


	5. Chapter 5

The next afternoon was less nerve wracking. The next afternoon was a team meeting. Of course, that meant it was Jack’s first team meeting, as the meetings occur every other week on Tuesdays. 

Davey crossed the hall to get him before the meeting. He walked in and Jack quickly shut his mini sketchbook. “Dave! Heya!” He smiled brightly. 

Davey didn’t even bother to sit on a table. “There’s a meeting in my room in five minutes- usually it only concerns core class teachers, but since it’s your first meeting, you gotta be there.” He smiled back before winking at him and walking out.

The minute he was turned his face turned to that of an idiot who was overthinking the action he had just done.

He went back to his own classroom and shoved a few desks together and actually sat in a chair for once. As other teachers started filing in, they ended up pushing even more desks together. Everyone wanted to be there for Jack’s first meeting.

Crutchie had the longest list of problems, with Spot and Specs competing for second. They were glaring at each other from across the room, so Davey was willing to place his bets that their problems are related.

Once everyone was there, Davey stood up and closed the door, clearing his throat and standing at the head of the table. “Okay, most of you know the drill, but since Jack is new, I’m just going to review our order. Core classes go first, obviously. Anthony and I don’t have anything, and I already worked out Romeo’s issues on Thursday, so Charlie, Michael, and Katherine can go in that order. Albert, do you have any issues?” Albert shook his head. “Okay, good. Then fitness- I get the feeling Spot and Conor will need a court session?” A nod. “Okay, so. Court. They each get lawyers- Typically Anthony and Romeo respectively- and present their opposing cases to me, the judge. I decide whose points are more relevant. The fine arts. Louis? You got anything?” Louis nodded vigorously, looking eager. “Yeah, I thought so. Louis can close us out, and then miscellaneous questions. Got it?” 

They all nodded now. Jack looked transfixed. 

“Okay. Morris?”

Crutchie launched into his usual angry rant about how there weren’t enough differently-abled accessible places around the school before actually talking about students. Two of them kept talking out during class, three fell asleep, and one had an overall average of 32 in his class. As he talked, the others responded with suggestions and input about the same student in relation to how he acted in their own classes.

Similar things with slight differences came from Mush and Kath.

“Meyers,” was followed by Mush ranting about the terrible wifi and how that affects his ability to teach history. Davey promised he’d talk to Pulitzer about getting a better tech guy.

“Jacobs-Plumber-Pulitzer,” was followed by Katherine putting in a request for a bulk purchase of her kids summer reading for the less fortunate students. 

“We can’t just buy fifty copies of that Tim O’Brien book!” Davey sighed.

“Sure we can, David! Just ask, like, Scholastic for a grant for fifty copies of The Things They Carried! Come on!” she pleaded.

Davey sighed and shook his head. “I’ll see what I can do, Kath. Don’t count on anything.”

Spot and Specs then stood. Davey sighed. “Yeah, I guess it’s time for Conlon and McEvoy to, I don’t know, fight to the death?”

Race laughed. “Uh, I don’t think you can suggest death to my client.”

Romeo nodded. “Yeah, mine neither. But for the record, I study American court cases. I’ll win.”

“You’ve said that every time you’re Specs’ lawyer, Ramirez! You always lose!”

Davey sighed. “Order in my fuckin classroom. Spot, state your case.”

“My boys need the gym next Thursday afternoon to work out! It’s lacrosse season, Jacobs, they need to be in perfect shape! And since both varsity and junior varsity work out together, I need the entire gym!”

Davey nodded. “Some valid points, I guess. Conor?”

Specs took a deep breath. “The Spring Performance is on Saturday in the gym! My dancers need the gym! Like, ASAP! They haven’t gotten to do their routine in the gym in months because I was letting Spot do his thing!”

 

Romeo and Race weren’t actually doing anything, just sharing a bag of Cheetos and occasionally throwing them at their clients. 

Davey sighed. “This isn’t even hard. Spot, you know Conor needs it. You get it next week, okay?”

Spot grumbled about favoritism but sat down, defeated. Specs grinned and high-fived Romeo before sitting. 

“Okay, Balatti, your turn.” Louis sprang to his feet.

“My choir needs somewhere for their own Spring Showcase by next month, my theatre kids need, well, the theatre reserved for the first weekend of April, and we need money for costumes. Also, can we maybe get Jojo down here to fix our keyboards? Some of my boys have broken a few of the kets, which really offsets our compositions and fucks up their final project,” he ranted, wildly moving his hands and looking needy. “I get that our fine arts fund is limited, but that’s some fucking bullshit. These kids need money. I could even organize a fundraiser?”

Davey listened patiently and nodded. “We can find a theatre for the choir and theatre departments, meet me in Pulitzer’s tomorrow to discuss the fundraiser, because you’re right. Much of our stuff is student donated, we can’t even afford Jojo’s help.”

Jack’s mouth was open slightly and his attention was fully focused on Davey. He was fascinated by how easily Davey fits into a role of control and leadership, and if he was being honest, he kinda loved it. Davey didn’t notice because he had split up the meeting and was arguing with Race in a corner. Everyone else had left and Davey really needed to discuss lab plans. Race, on the other hand, kept trying to give Davey different kinds of sleep meds. Davey declined every one.

Jack lingered in the Biology classroom, caught in a reverie centered entirely around one Mr. Jacobs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> davey takes a day off

Wednesday morning wasn’t a good morning for Davey, not that he really had a concept of morning versus night. No mornings were really good for him, what with his lack of sleep in general, but that morning was particularly bad. He was groggy and stuffy, his vision was blurry, he was both parched and unable to drink.

He debated going to work anyways, but his slightly more sensible side won. He emailed the office to inform them that he was sick and would need a day off and put Race in charge in his absence.

Less than five minutes later, he got an angry call from Race.

“David Elijah Jacobs!”

“Why would you assume my middle name is-”

“No! No talking. You fucking asshole. First you deny my help for months and then you think you can take a sick day and put me in charge? _Me_?!” Davey could practically feel his stress through the phone.

“Anthony, I trust you, you’ll do fine. And I haven’t even played hooky in two years, much less gotten sick. Let me have this.” He noted that his own voice was nasally and he sounded like a clogged sink come to life.

Race sighed and Davey could hear his exasperation through the phone. “Whatever. I get to be the one to tell Jack that you’re absent because you can’t take care of your own goddamn biology, though.”

Davey faked a gasp. “You keep your mouth shut! Snitches get stitches!” 

He could physically _feel_ Race’s responding eye roll. Race muttered a sarcastic and yet genuine “feel better soon” before hanging up.

Less than two minutes later, he got a worried text from Jack. _‘davey are you ok race said you worked yourself into sicknesS????’_

Davey didn’t respond to that text, just turned off his phone, turned on Netflix, and watched Dead Poet’s Society. He spent the next few hours pointing at the screen and saying ‘gay’ while chewing on some candies.

When the movie finished, he was crying, of course. He wiped his tears really quickly before turning his phone back on.

Twelve new notifications. Three missed calls from Sarah, two emails from Mush and Pulitzer, and seven texts from Jack, each more panicked than the last. Davey sighed, finally deciding that ignoring Jack’s texts would be cruel. 

His face grew red as he read through the texts- he wasn’t accustomed to people worrying.

_‘dave?? you wanna respond maybe???’  
‘david please answer i dont like when my friends are sick’  
‘daveydaveydaveydaveydaveydaveydavey’  
‘are you doing something??? Like sleeping???? Or are you at the doctors?????’  
‘daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave’  
‘Its been 2hrs hffsuidss’  
‘okay so im sorry for spamming your phone just respond when you get these my students are getting annoyed with me constantly checking my phone’_

Davey felt himself smiling at the worried, slightly panicked tone of all the texts, and yet he still almost didn’t respond. When he did, it neglected to explain anything at all. 

_‘Sorry. Phone was off. I was watching Dead Poet’s Society, I’m fine.’_

It took five minutes for Jack to respond, and the head teacher in Davey wondered briefly why he had his phone out when he should have been teaching.

_‘OH THANK GOD drink water eat food and also send me your address so i can bring you a get better soon painting’_

Davey laughed quietly and sent his address, kind of excited to see what exactly a ‘get better soon painting’ could possibly entail. It might have been a dumb decision, but carpe diem, right? 

Right.

Davey was already regretting his decision. Jack at his house meant Jack would see the mess and Jack would get his germs and Jack would see him without his button down, tie, waistcoat, slacks, and perfectly styled hair, it meant Jack would be _in his house_. And honestly, Davey’s a little bit too sick and gay for that. 

He made a quick decision to use his few hours of peace to tidy his living room and at least attempt to hide away his plethora of “nerd books” such as an array of textbooks, multiple sci-fi novels, and all the Lord of the Rings novels. While his house still looked messy, it was clean enough for Davey. He was known to obsessively clean his classroom up at the school, but his house was organized in a very complex Jacobs System of organization. The system divided the room into sevenths and challenged the organizer to fit all of one category in each fraction. Whilst the system made perfect sense to Davey, he was aware that his house resembled an overdone obstacle course to most other people. He didn’t mind much, though. Unless, of course, the other people were Jack Kelly.

When Jack did arrive, he had a paint smear across his forehead, a sweat-stained Ben Ten tee shirt on his chest, and a beautifully vibrant painting of the moon in his hands that both took Davey’s breath away and cleared his congestion enough that he could breathe properly just by looking at it. On that topic, it also cleared his skin and finished his grade work. Jack greeted him with a stunning smile, and Davey was reminded of just how fucked he was. According to his own calculations, he was at least seventy-five percent fucked, so pretty goddamn fucked. Why does it always shock everyone when Davey curses out loud when his inner monologue is dirtier than a school water fountain?

He made his umpteenth mistake of the day by inviting Jack in to “hang out”. Hang out, he observed, is teacher speak for sitting on a couch discussing school and drinking alcohol to forget about school. He decided to forgo the alcohol, for obvious reasons, and instead poured a glass of lemonade for both of them. Jack didn’t seem to mind, as he was quite preoccupied with staring at the cat, neither creature blinking. Sherbert got bored first and blinked one of his bright yellow eyes before meandering over to Jack with a swagger that much resembled Jack’s original swagger when he walked into that interview for the first time. Davey laughed to himself at that thought before handing Jack the lemonade and sitting himself down on his couch.

He wished he could say there wasn’t tension, an unspoken thing in the air between the two men, but he prided himself in his honesty, and honestly, the entire hour Jack “hung out” at his house, the air was like static. Their conversation was eased and normal, save for some random sneezing and coughing from Davey, but something was different. 

When Jack left, Davey hung the painting up in his bedroom before sitting down and finally, _finally_ , falling asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> davey has a bad day

The classroom felt silent, despite the twenty chatting students. It felt cold, despite the 80 degrees Fahrenheit room temperature. It felt distant, despite the fact that Davey was standing right there in the middle of it. The students were unaware of their teacher’s state of distress, but Davey was more aware than ever. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t even think.

It was Thursday. He was back at school.

Was it Thursday? He wasn’t sure the day of the week. He wasn’t sure how many fingers he had, how many fingers digging into the palm of his hand, how many, how many _what?_

He couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t taken his medication, he had forgotten to. Forgotten? Neglected? He didn’t know. What he did know is that something, something, some _one_ had tugged on his sleeve and sent him into a spiral. Spiraling, spiraling, spiraling. Down, down, down.

A door. His door. Of course his door. He barely noticed.

Open, closed. Closed. His eyes were closed. 

A voice, one voice. One female voice. Female, girl, woman-

Katherine. He opened his eyes and turned his head, hoping to convey the _savemesavemesaveme_ that he needed to convey. She walked over to him, let him grab her wrist. She didn’t grab him, didn’t even reach for him. She put her arm near him. He grabbed her wrist tight. She didn’t mind. The students still failed to notice.

She led him out of the classroom, out of the noise, out, out, out. The door opened, closed. He could breathe again. She raised a brow at him. He shrugged, knowing, hoping, wanting her to understand.

Across the hall, he could see Jack. Jack didn’t notice, Jack was drawing, Jack wouldn’t notice, why would Davey expect him to notice? He took deep breaths.

“So I might not have taken my medicine?” he admitted sheepishly once his mouth was moving again, once his teeth didn’t feel numb, once his tongue wasn’t choking him like a coiled boa constrictor. 

She rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I assumed so. Do you bring extras to school?” He shook his head. “No, of course you don’t. Dumbass. Do you want me to watch your class? You can go to the bathroom, splash some water on your face, get yourself some coffee?” He nodded eagerly.

 

“Yes, please, you’re the best, I owe you a billion, the kids probably won’t even notice, they’re easy.” He sounded rushed, adrenalized, unsure. She smiled at him and he quickly walked away, doing his best not to run. Behind him, the door opened, closed, one more time. He didn’t go to the bathroom, he went straight to the teacher’s lounge. There’s a drawer with extra fidgets, most confiscated from dumb kids. There’s a Keurig, already presumably loaded with water and flanked by coffee grounds and styrofoam cups. He inhaled. Exhaled. Made himself a cup of coffee, no sugar, no cream, just burning hot liquid energy, liquid sanity. He opened the drawer and grabbed a fidget and physically felt the stress drain from him in time with the coffee from the Keurig. 

He sank into the couch and waited for the class period to end. He drank his coffee, calmed his racing mind, and tried to list as many snakes as he could. Burmese python. King cobra. Corn snake. Crotalus ruber. Snouted cobra. 

This went on for a while, all while drinking his coffee (and then brewing another cup). He flinched violently when another teacher opened the lounge door to signify the changing of periods. Focusing on his breathing, he glanced up. It was Charlie, looking dignified and intelligent despite his untied tie hanging around his neck, draped over a Metallica tee. Davey smiled at him, pleased with himself when he found his lips able to tilt upwards into a smile. 

Crutchie looked at Davey’s hands, holding coffee and a fidget. He looked at Davey’s eyes, still a bit red from panic. He looked at Davey’s foot, tap-tap-tapping on the ground like a drumbeat. He raised a brow.

“I ain’t no mathematician, David, but my calculations suggest that you ain’t doing too hot?” Crutchie smiled and nudged Davey’s tapping foot with his crutch gently, laughing quietly.

“You _are_ a mathematician, you nerd. But no, yeah, your ‘calculations’ are correct as usual, dweeb.” He laughed, standing up. “But as utterly un-hot as I find myself to be doing, I need to get to class, probably.”

“You actually teachin’ next or just supervisin’ their learnin’?” Crutchie asked, going over to the coffee machine as he awaited his answer. 

Davey shrugged. “I can’t recall, but I think it might be AP. So, uh, teaching. I think. I dunno. But even if it’s just supervising, I think these kids are good.” He tried to remember his lesson plan but found himself too tired, too cloudy to remember much of any important information. He smiled at his friend. “See you later, Charlie.” 

He walked out, humming to himself as a way of self-calming. A constant drum in his throat, blocking out the rest of the world. It seemed fitting, somehow, a casual thing for him to depend on, humming seemed like the best thing to do. 

He walked to his classroom, breathing steadily and holding his coffee tightly in one hand. His class was already sitting down with their notebooks out, chatting amongst themselves like the sociable creatures they are. When he walked in, a few of them glanced up, but most of them ignored him.

“Okay, I’m here, get to work. Like, continue on your lab reports, I guess. Uh, I forgot to take my meds today, so don’t touch me, keep your voices down, and for the love of God- _please_ don’t spill your drinks.” He sat at his desk and sipped his coffee carefully. 

He was fine. It was fine.

He looked across the hallway, hoping for something, some undefined thing that he couldn’t place his finger on. Or perhaps he could, perhaps he was just pretending to be unable. 

Much to Davey’s utter lack of surprise, Jack still hadn’t noticed the concerning behavioral patterns of the Biology teacher.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they talk i guess

After school, Davey walked into Jack’s classroom, counting the steps of his feet and matching his counting to his breathing. Jack was putting a box of X-Acto knives away and whistling quietly. Davey knocked on the doorframe, smiling slightly. Jack glanced over and almost dropped to box of dangerous tools.

“Dave! Hey! How’re ya doin’?” he chirped, smiling. Davey shrugged, biting back a sarcastic remark about how he’d know the answer to that question if he had just bothered to glance into the Bio classroom at any point. 

“Not too bad.” Bad. Very bad. He couldn’t even _think,_ his head hurt too much. “School was slow today, I guess.” No shit it was slow, he couldn’t think at a normal pace what with his over-analyzing and breakdowns. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that Jack didn’t know and that Jack wasn’t required to know. 

Jack smiled naively, continuing to tidy his art room. “I feel that, yeah. Three kids broke skin with dulled X-Actos in one class period. I was so- Hey, what's up, Dave? You seem off. Talk to Doctor Jack.” He hopped up on a table and pat the space beside him until David gave in and joined him, tucking his legs into a butterfly position and smiling a bit. Jack had noticed. Of course Jack had noticed. Davey felt like melting butter.

“I, uh. Forgot to take my OCD meds today? And honestly, I didn’t take them yesterday either so it was kind of… I don’t know. Hard to handle?” He chuckled dryly and fiddled with his shoelaces.

Jack frowned. “Shit, dude. Sorry I didn’t notice, I was trying to keep myself from getting distracted, what with the sharp knives and all. Are you, y’know, good now? I mean, of course not, but are you better?”

Davey nodded and took a breath. “I’m good, yeah, thanks. I just can’t handle physical contact, spills, or sudden loud noises, I think. No biggie, I can handle this.” He looked at Jack in his Avatar: The Last Airbender tank top and paint-stained pants and noticed the obvious worry in his eyes. He was overcome with a very troublesome urge to kiss the worry lines away right then and there, but he practiced restraint. Not the time, not the place. Never the time, actually. 

Instead, he clenched his hands into fists and fit his nails in the little cave-ins from when he had broken skin hours before. His palms were still tender, but he hardly noticed. He could see the gears in Jack’s head turning, slowly but surely.

“You wanna talk about somethin’ else? Get your mind off your mind?” Jack offered, grinning. Davey shrugged and looked at Jack’s shoulders. There was the end of a tattoo branching on his shoulder blades and wrapping around to his back, causing Davey to realize that he had never seen Jack’s shoulders before then, what with his graphic tees and button downs. 

He found himself nodding. “Yeah. That would- that would be nice. What do you, uh, want to talk about?”

“I dunno. Wanna talk about animals? You like animals, yeah?”

Davey couldn’t help but blush and duck his head a bit at that. “Yeah, how’d you know?” he joked.

“Maybe the hundreds of animal books littered around your house? Or the fact that you were a biology major because you thought that was the only study of animals that you could major in when you were 18? Or the fact that you want to go back to college for zoology?” Jack rambled off, grinning. Davey was struck both by how much he had told Jack and, arguably more importantly, how much Jack had listened. Not only listened but remembered.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, animals are kinda my thing with a focus on herpetology- the study of like, slimy things. Amphibians, reptiles, mainly snakes.” He shrugged bashfully, trying to wrap his mind around the conversation. Someone wanted to talk to him about animals. That someone was Jack. Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly recognized how much he liked animals. Jack Kelly recalled that he was saving money for zoology courses. Jack motherfucking Kelly. That boy will be the death of him.

Jack nodded along, interest sparking in his eyes like a shock of light. “Snakes, then? Aren’t they poisonous, though?”

Jack motherfucking Kelly. He knows not what he says. Davey grants him the benefit of the doubt. “Not poison, Kelly. Venom. You could eat a snake, no problem. But if certain types of snakes bit you? Then you’d have a problem.”

Jack nodded, pretending to understand. “See now, this is why you’re the science guy and I’m the art guy. Hey! You’re the science guy! Davey, are you Bill Nye?”

“Wha- no? Bill Nye is technically a mechanical engineer, his doctorate in science is only honorary? I’m a full-fledged biologist?” Davey defended defensively. He’d been compared to Nye far too many times for his liking. Not all scientists are glorified talk show hosts. 

“Ah, of course. My apologies, Mr. Jacobs. I shall not make that mistake again,” Jack said seriously, smirking slightly. “Now to be perfectly clear, if you bite it and die, it's poison, but if it bites you and you die, it’s venom?” 

“Yeah, exactly. How did you not know that, Jack? Aren’t you like, an adult?”

“Hey, I may or may not have failed 11th grade Bio, Mr. Nerd.” Davey gasped at this admission. This goddamn boy. This adorable, naive, sweet, perfect boy. Davey scowled.

“Jack! How could you only be telling me this now? Junior year biology was easy!”

“Junior year biology was an AP class!”

“Yeah? So? Junior year in general for me was almost all AP classes?”

“You fucking nerd!”

Davey grinned at him cheekily, bumping his shoulder teasingly. It all felt right, and Davey realized with a jolt that he hadn’t felt on edge since he walked in. Just being around Jack calmed him. He took a deep breath.

“Hey, Jack? Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night? Not the rest of the team, just you and me?” Like a date. No, not like a date. An absolute date.

“Yeah, sure.” Oh, shit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> davey is gay and jack is dumb, you know the drill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY HELLO SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER   
> this took me forever to write im sorrrry its 11 ish hours later please forgive me   
> anyways have some sweetness

Friday rolled around and Davey was not fucking ready. Then again, when was he ever ready for anything? He went about his day like a normal person, fretting over what he intended to be a really sweet date. Jesus Christ, he remembers vividly why he doesn’t do “love” so why the fuck is he trying again?

Seven years had passed, is why. Seven goddamn years since his ex- ex what? Ex-lover? Ex-boyfriend? Ex co-worker? Ex really close friend?- had packed his bags and left a note on their fridge. So Davey had never recovered, okay? Sue him. When someone loves someone else for three years of their life and the someone else just up and leaves for Miami without even a goodbye, it traumatizes them deeply. 

That might be why Davey quit his first job in pharmaceuticals, but no one can prove anything.

Davey had tried his best for two weeks (two whole weeks! Wow!) to starve off the natural pull he had felt towards Jack Kelly. Curse him and his lack of self-preservation skills. 

He listed pros and cons as he drove to school. 

PROS:  
He’s very cute  
He might like me???  
I’m gay let me have this

CONS:  
He’s a co-worker  
Love is fake

Well, the stats don’t lie. Three pros and two cons. Clearly, Davey had not made a mistake. Quantitative data always overrules qualitative in the sense that the cons were much better quality than the pros but there were objectively more pros. 

After about five intrusive thoughts relating to crashing the car or running over someone, Davey got to school. He skipped over the chemistry classroom, ignored the art classroom all together, and just laid unhelpfully on the floor of his own biology class for thirty minutes, continuing what he had done for most of the night before contemplating his existence and wondering when the sun will explode and swallow everyone on earth (sadly, the scientists say we have about four billion years to go).

Once his job officially started and the hormone-fueled monsters started filing in, he slipped into routine, all thoughts of the afternoon rendered unnecessary. Sure, his heart skipped a beat whenever anyone mentioned art class, and sure, he forgot how to breath when a student brought up Mr. Jack (they had decided Mr. Kelly was too formal for the art teacher). This didn’t mean he wasn’t fine, he was. Fine, that is.

Actually, wait. Define “fine”.

Regardless, Davey survived until the evening bell rang and the weekend technically began. 

He drove home to change immediately after, texting Jack for his address. He didn’t even stay after to hang out with Jack, what would have been the point in that? His head was spinning. He had asked a boy on a date- he had asked Jack Fucking Kelly on a date- and said boy had actually agreed. He couldn’t wrap his gay little head around that.

He got to his house and quickly changed clothes to look nicer and more… Date-worthy. He fed his cat, put on a tie, and quickly Googled nice restaurants before eventually deciding on just going to a simple place like Subway. No need to go above and beyond- he lives on a teacher’s salary and this is, again, Jack Fucking Kelly. Olive Garden is reserved for super classy people who wouldn’t show up to Parent’s Night wearing paint-stained Pokemon tee-shirt paired with (also paint stained) clashing basketball shorts. So yeah, he decided on Subway, and yeah, he was still going to wear a button down, tie, and skinny jeans. Jack may be… Well, Jack, but Davey is a classy motherfucker. 

He could feel himself trembling as he climbed in the car, fixing his tie habitually. He punched Jack’s address into his global positioning system (“What the fuck is a GPS, Higgins?”) and began his ascent into hell. Wait, no. His journey to a co-worker’s house. Eh, what’s the difference?

He got to Jack’s house and was less than shocked to find the man standing in ripped jeans and a ratty old Family Guy tank top, both splattered with green paint. He was the river, Davey was the parched antelope, drinking in the beauty of the river. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

“Yeah, dude, sure. Where are we going?” Jack walked out of his house and locked his door behind him, quickly, fluidly, practiced. 

Davey shook his head. “I’m not telling you 'til we get there, Kelly.” He intended to hype the restaurant up just to see Jack’s face when it was actually a Subway. They piled in the car and Davey felt his throat run dry at the mere sight of Jack, in all his sleeveless glory, laughing in his passenger seat at the song that had come on the radio, some mindless pop song that Jack miraculously knew all the words to in the same way that Davey knew the current updated list of endangered mammals worldwide. 

Endangered- _adjective_ \- (of a species) seriously at risk of extinction.

Endangered- Davey’s sanity.  
Endangered- Davey’s self-control.  
Endangered- Davey’s peace of mind with the incredibly foreboding presence of Jack in his passenger seat.

En-fucking-danger. 

In a shockingly non-shocking turn of events, Jack was delighted when they arrived at Subway, he was delighted when Davey let him get chips and a cookie, and he was through the roof delighted when he discovered that he didn’t have to pay. 

Conversation flowed easily as it always had, but this time they had food to buffer their conversation. Delicious, heavenly food. 

When they left, each holding different sodas in their hands, Jack with his disgusting Mountain Dew and Davey with his wonderful Cherry Cola, Davey had the urge to grab the free hand dangling next to him. One motion and he’d be holding the entire world. Wait no, that’s gay. He settled for innocently knocking the back of their hands together, casual as can be. 

The drive back to Jack’s was a lot worse than the drive from because on the drive back to Jack’s, Davey made a grave error.

“Hey, Jack? My sister works in the elementary and she was saying that the younger kids’ art teacher does oil paintings- didn’t you mention that you don’t like oil?”

Jack’s entire being shifted a bit. His eyes sharpened, his face hardened, his back straightened. “ _Fuck_ oil painting. It’s praised as such a classic form of art, a media that is of absolute necessity to master to be a ‘real artist’ or whatever, but come on! It’s oil mixed with dyes, it’s a recipe for disaster! I’ve wasted a shit ton’ a paint brushes, good quality paint brushes, on them devil paints. They never come out of anything, Dave, I’m tellin’ ya!”

His voice had a certain tone- the same tone Davey got when he was talking about reptiles. 

Oh, shit. It was hot.

Davey’s mouth was too dry to respond. Luckily for him, they were already back at Jack’s house and the moment had passed. “I, uh, guess this is it, then?”

“Yeah, aren’t you gonna walk me to the door? Y’know, sweep me off my feet, kiss me blind?” He said it in a teasing tone and Davey could feel himself turn red.

“I dunno, Jack, that seems like a second date type thing, not that I’d complain,” he responded, also teasing but the tilt of his voice was jarringly different. 

“... Wait, this was a date?”

Well, okay. That explains the differences in tone. 

“I, uh- yeah? Was that not obvious? Shit, sorry-”

He was cut off by Jack leaning across the center console and kissing him both hesitantly and firmly on the mouth.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

Jack pulled back almost as quickly as he had surged forward.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I should have asked permission, shit-”

“May I kiss you again?” 

“Uh- yes, please.”

And suddenly they were kissing again and Davey’s racing brain fell silent and the world felt calm, as cliche as that sounds. There were hands in hair, hands clutching at shirts, stomachs pressed against the center console, and it was perfect. Alas, it had to end, though. They pulled apart, bright red and smiling shyly. 

“I, uh, I’d ask to come in, but uh, that’s not really my thing,” Davey mumbled abashedly. Jack nodded quickly, smiling like a dope.

“No, yeah, of course. I, uh, this was fun. This _date_ was fun. I’d love to, y’know. Have more?” Jack said, already kissing Davey’s cheek and getting out of the car.

And have more dates they did. That one kiss, that one firework-starting, heart-stopping, only-semi-consensual kiss led to hundreds more. It led to late night whispered conversations, it led to early morning carpooling to work, but mostly it led to a fuckton more dates. Dates to the amusement park (“So many colors, Dave! I could never get the right paints!”), to the zoo (“We need to see the snakes, Kelly. The venomous snakes. The big ones.”), and even to three towns over (“This is a teacher training, not a date, Jack.” “It’s whatever I say it is, Dave.”). 

Five days passed and shy glances were being exchanged across the hallway during school, rousing conversations about whatever occurred before and after school, and merciless teasing from fellow teachers was enacted full force.

Five weeks passed and it was summer break. They both spent the first few weeks away from each other and with their respective families, relying heavily on Skype and Verizon Wireless to keep them connected. Their reunion was cheesy, teary, and filmed on Race’s shitty four-year-old Samsung phone. 

Five months passed and Jack was packing up his belongings to move in with Davey. Davey was cleaning his apartment out to make room for the boxes and boxes of art supplies and blankets. This decision lead to more cuddling, more carpooling, and more living. 

Five years. It took five years, but the best things take time. Five years later, Jack proposed. Well, no, that’s not exactly accurate. Four years and eight months later, Davey proposed but Jack failed to notice because Davey had phrased it as “Will you be the Equus quagga to my Buphagus forever?” which made no sense to Jack or anyone else. Had Davey not used scientific names and simply said zebra and oxpecker…. Jack still wouldn’t have gotten it, honestly. Five years, though. Their five year anniversary, to the date. Jack took Davey to a shitty Subway- Davey showed up in a ratty physics pun tee and Jack showed up dressed to the nines. A symbolic role reversal, in Jack’s opinion, but symbolic of what? 

Of course, Davey said yes through a mouthful of a cheddar-turkey-rye sandwich. Timing issues continued to be Jack’s specialty, like that one waiter that only shows up when you’re eating.

Five years, four months, one week, and two days later, Jack Kelly and Davey Jacobs got married. They kept their own last names, they’re teachers who don’t want to confuse their poor innocent students. 

They had their ups, they had their downs, they had their awkward sideways mishaps in bed. They had a seven-hour biology crash course from an exasperated Davey, they had a four-hour posing session so Jack could paint Davey’s eyes _just right_. 

More importantly, they had Race there to film everything, so by the time they were fifty, they had a five-hour documentary titled “The Chemistry of These Fucking Nerds” given to them in silver wrapping.

What better way to commemorate a relationship based on a shitty job than with a shitty Windows Movie VHS film far past when VHS and Window Movie actually existed? There is none. 

Anyways, whenever anyone asked Davey, no matter how many days, weeks, months, years, whatever, later, he’d most likely say interviewing the shithead named Mr. Jack Kelly was the best thing to ever happen to him, maybe. That time he pet a snake was pretty great… No, it was definitely the interview. Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuckin shit its over fuckin kill me.  
> like, a billion thanks to mar and also the entire server (yall know who you is)  
> also uhhh leave kudos and comments??? idk you do you but like,,, im proud of this shit

**Author's Note:**

> hey shoutout to my brainstorm partner thatdamntheatrekid and also thanks to my "editor" dmitris  
> you guys are great and deserve at least 12 frosted flakes each


End file.
